I've had two Cats.

FB (or Fub, short for "Flea Bag").

August 14, 1993:

>>Fub found dead on the roof 930814

I was at my desk when Sam and Liz came up the steps to report Fub found - dead on the roof of the front house. She was right at the edge over the front porch. She was in a cute pose, lying peacefully on her stomach with her head nestled along her right leg. The breeze ruffled her fur and I thought maybe she moved. But there was a trail of ants already busy running in and out of her nostril.

I had walked the roof Friday evening looking for her, so she definitely wasn't there at that time. I suspect she had been hiding under that little eve there. Perhaps she came out when she heard me and I didn't see her? It is easy to feel guilty about it. The time I wouldn't let her come in upstairs. Should I have taken her to the vet? Should I have let her live quitely upstairs?? But I really think not. She was failing and the other cats were picking on her, she hadn't the energy/will/ strength to put them in their place the way she did for almost two decades. And she had always been her own cat, an outdoor cat coming and going as she pleased.

Sam dug a grave about 2' deep about 10' north of the apple tree. I picked her up and wrapped her in my old purple button-down shirt and we buried her.

We did a BBQ, almost a Mormon funeral. I observed that Fub had been a working cat, earning her way into the family by catching mice and rats. Liz recalled the time Fub was hiding in pino-man and whacked her ear as she was loading stuff at the dryer.

March 13, 2014: Amir reminded me that Fub used to sleep on the poker pizza box...

And Finster.

February 27, 2003:

>>---dead - Finster, age 18+ years; I'm so sad 030227

Finster is in a sorry state. Not eating, sort of comatose. I have her set up on a heating pad and a cushion in the kitchen. She did drag herself off of it to sit at Joe's feet for a while last night.

Finster died between noon and 1400. I was already feeling down (lethargic, listless) and it was so sad.

February 28, 2003:

Finster died yesterday. I petted her at noon, she barely raised her head. At 1400 I found her dead, stretched out about 2' away from her heating pad. Looked peaceful. Her arthristis seemed to let her go, she was flexible in my hands. I buried her in the yard north of the lemon tree.

She was a good pet. Sam snuck her into my life when I was away on RAAM '84. She always had breakfast with me, sitting on my lap. She used to sit on top of the garage next door, getting her rays. But she gave that up about a year ago - I trimmed the wisteria a little too severely, it had been her ladder. She still enjoyed sun in various parts of the yard.

When I got back from Thailand on the 20th, she seemed a bit frail but was eating OK. She ate her aspirin pill on Sunday, but then commenced a steep decline. I don't know the last time she ate and she didn't eat her pill on Wednesday.

She did sit on my lap for part of breakfast Wednesday before going outside and sitting on the table in the sun. When I got back form the courthouse she had climbed up the stairs and was sleeping in front of my door, sort of comatose.

I set her up on a heating pad and a cushion in the kitchen. She did drag herself off of it to sit at Joe's feet for a while Wednesday night.

She didn't have breakfast with me Wed AM. I already miss her a lot...